Snapshots
by Cobwebbs
Summary: Life is a series of snapshots and pieces that don't make sense while their being lived but living them is what eventually makes you who you're meant to become. Dick Grayson figures that out sooner than most.
1. Hating Gotham

**A/N) So I have a bunch of random plot bunnies that are bouncing around.**

 **Some ore probably gonna be really short and some might connect but most will be stand-alones**

 **Anyway, I hope you guys fallow this and give it a chance.**

 **Motivation is you superpower! And all that power is in one click!**

* * *

Dick was hiding. Hiding from bullies.

He hates this place. He hates Gotham, everyone _in_ Gotham, _and_ this school, and the people in this school. His mouth twists into an angry frown when he peers through the thick leaves to see where those jerks were.

They were milling around still looking for 'the pipsqueak circus charity case.' so they could make his life even more miserable. Dick didn't really care he just doesn't want to go home with another bruise to explain. Because then Bruce would get all silent and thinking and that made the ten year old uncomfortable.

Bruce was nothing like his dad. Where Dad would listen and understand why Dick would have those bruises, Bruce would look passive. Dad would maybe make a joke of it, tell him he looked tough or whatever and then show him how to give the other guys the same mark. Bruce would grunt and give him awkward reprimands about how he should be more carful and to avoid picking fights. Like it was his fault.

He's been with Bruce for three months now - three long, agonizing months of silent hallways, lonely dinners, and dark nights. Alfred helped a little but - but Dick had thought that when Bruce said he would help him deal with his grief - that he would, you know, actually _help_.

But he rarely saw the man. Always at work in the day and never at home at night.

Dick thinks he'd have better company at his parents grave than he does at the huge manor.

He used to be a kid of jokes and smiles and laughter - but it was hard to smile or laugh in that giant place . . . when there was no one to smile or laugh for.

"You gonna stay up there forever?"

Dick startles, his grip almost slipping from the tree branch he was clinging to. He grumbles at the scratches and looks down.

A pair of big blue eyes look back at him.

"Hello." She smiles, her freckled nose wrinkles cutely and Dick feels like someone sucker punched him right in the gut.

"H-hello?" How did she find him up here? Nobody thinks to look for him this high up, they don't know he can climb this high up. "Who - who are you?"

She smiles wider, her twin red tails shine under the sun and little Dick has the strange notion they might smell like strawberries. "I'm Barbara. And you're Dick Grayson." She says, pointing at him in certainty.

"Uh - yah . . .how'd you know?" She was really pretty - _please don't be a jerk, please don't be a mean -_

"Everyone's heard of Bruce Wayne's ' _charity case'._ " Her smile dims a bit. "Sorry about your parents." She sighs, as if it's somehow her fault that tragedy took place.

Dick likes her.

"Hang on a sec." He stands, she gasps when he jumps, grabs another branch, flips forward and somersaults in the air before landing perfectly on his feet in front of her.

"Wow - " She claps. "You're good. A show off, but good."

For the first time since his parents death, Dick feels his heart lighten as he takes in the little girl in front of him. "Thanks." He blushes. "Nice to meet you, Barbara."

"You to, Dick." And she reaches for his hand.

He jerks when she grasps his fingers, her smile never falling off. "C'mon, let's go play kick ball, I bet I'm better at that than you." She challenges with a grin.

Dick feels himself smile and lets her drag him off. "We'll just see about that." He teases and takes off faster.

Barbara laughs behind him.

Maybe he doesn't hate _everyone_ in Gotham.

* * *

 **Poor little Dickie bird.**

 **I figured he'd be a bit resentful in his early stages of grief. He bounces back pretty quickly considering. But right now he' s a sad, lonely, depressed ten year old without any friends and Bruce sucks at feeling a whole lot more in the beginning than he does by the time Damian rolls around.**

 **Which is saying something.**

 **Yah - on a less sad note, isn't tiny Babs adorable! Little freckled red head!**

 **Hope you guys liked this snapshot.**

 **I'm sure more will come soon!**


	2. Turn of Fate

**A/N) Just a moment when the world changes for Dick Grayson.**

 **Motivation is your superpower**

* * *

Bruce was never home and that's a fact.

Like, does the guy even _live_ here really? Does he use that giant room he supposedly is supposed to sleep in? Does he ever sit at his dinning room table? Does he ever actually walk through his front door - where is he?

Dick's been here six months and this guy is literally never around.

Sure, at first Dick didn't really care, he was to lonely and to depressed to really care. Even though all he wanted was a hug and for people to leave him alone at the same time.

 _But now?_

Now he wonders where is Bruce all the time? Nobody can be _that_ busy.

 _"Master Bruce has plenty of things to occupy his time. I'm sorry it seems to take precedence over - other things." Alfred had tried to placate him when he asked once._

 _Dick didn't think that was an answer._

He's never in his study. Never in his garage. Never in the backyard. Never in the sitting room. Never in the library.

Sure, work and stuff was obviously a big time consumer - and he did have a reputation as a - _ew_ \- ladies man, Dick was ten, he doesn't want to think what that means.

If it's anything like those sappy romance things in the movies . . . _gross_.

Anyway, nobody can be out doing that stuff _all_ the time. Maybe he could just be hanging out, maybe he doesn't like coming home. Maybe he forgot all about the small dark haired orphan boy without any parents that he took in.

 _"Huh - you think he's a secret agent or something." Barbara had mused with him. Her lips bright red because of the cherry lollipop she'd been eating._

 _"He's just never there. I don't know, maybe he is a spy or whatever. Then why take me in?" Dick still can't find the answer._

 _She'd shrugged and smiled at him, shoving him lightly with her elbow. "Maybe you're like some sort of important witness or something."_

 _"Not funny Barbara."_

 _She thought it was._

But all those musings and wonderings and suspicions didn't bring him any closer to any answer. He still didn't see Bruce more than once in a rare time. The big man had broken his promise from the start and Dick may be a bit resentful for that. But still - he just _really_ wanted to feel whole again.

And this weird secret night life Bruce has . . . it wasn't helping the kid any.

So it happens, that's what he was musing on when he found out.

It wasn't anything like what he had envisioned or thought up or whatever. It was way, way, way _cooler_ \- possibly scarier too. Dick had been curled up in the living room, glaring at the giant painting of Thomas and Martha Wayne standing side by side, hanging over the huge hearth. Just staring down at him. It kind of creeped him out because - they were dead and he watches too many horror movies and that's probably Barbara's fault. That girl loves her crime horror films.

Dick usually freaks himself out if he stares at the giant over looking painting long enough. But tonight his thoughts whirl to where Bruce could be now. He wasn't at dinner again. Alfred said the office kept him late tonight.

 _Yah right._

Dick's heard that one used at least ten times before. Along with a hundred other excuses and he wonders if Alfred realizes he repeats himself every few weeks or so. Like he's programmed to answer with different excuse options until he runs out of them than he starts over with the same lines.

 _It's weird._

Some sudden scuffling startles him out of his train of depressed thought . He must have dozed off because his eyes lift heavily and he hitches just a tad, not really in view of anything, he was still and hiding in the corner of the couch like a cat and then the old reliable grandfather clock _opens_.

Dick startles as the surprise space fills up with something big and - _Bruce_?

The little boy's heart is in his throat now as he twist soundlessly and stares, blue eyes large, taking in everything. He watches as Bruce steps out of the clock and Dick catches a glimpse of a soft blue light behind him and were those - rock walls?

 _No way._

Bruce hasn't heard him. He looks awful as he stumbles out of the room. The clock shutting faithfully behind him. Dick stays burrowed into his spot, not moving, holding his breath - not doing anything . . .just - he's suddenly aware of how uncomfortably stiff he is as he waits. The ants in his pants were getting worse the longer he stayed stone.

Finally, the house is creepy and silent enough for him to dare step a toe out onto the cold floor. One foot, then the next. He's still barely daring to breath.

He reaches the clock. Stares at it. It's a lot bigger up close. His brows furrow in wonder - what was behind this thing? He reaches for it and stares at it really hard . . .

The time? The time on it was wrong.

It had to be like four in the morning - but the clocks face reads ten thirty - than Dick has a weird hunch. He pushes the minute hand back - one minute, two- nothing's happening. Why does he think . . . he pushes it to twenty seven.

Ten twenty seven.

The thing whooshes open for him. Dick's a cross between horrified and excited. Something reaches for him and he knows - whatever is down there is going to change his life forever.

That's how he ends up in the _Batcave_ , mouth open, eyes huge, brain officially exploded and -

And Bruce catches him in the middle of his gawking.

He doesn't look happy.

 _Oops_.

* * *

 _A/N) Baby Dick is cute. Lonely and sad and cute. Now he finds the Batcave! Yay . . . the snapshots will get interesting! I hope._

 _See you for the next one!_


	3. Better and Bonding

**A/N) Short as an elf.**

 **Just needed airing out. Like a bridge to other shots.**

 **Motivation is your Superpower**

* * *

Dick goes flying across the Batcave for the hundredth time that night.

"Owww." He groans, face squished against the blue training mats.

"Again."

"But Bruce - u can't feel my . . . anything."

"I said. Again. Get up." Bruce's voice is firm and almost cold as the computers he stares at all the time.

Dick drags his weakened arms up and pushes, hands sore, muscles cramping all over and he shakes - he shales so bad. And falls flat on his face for his efforts.

"Owwww."

He can practically hear Bruce's exasperation.

"Dick - I told you, if you want to do this . . . you have to be prepared."

He's been saying that for six months. Dick's getting tired and antsy from it. He'd discovered Bruce was Batman six months ago. Tan he'd been an idiot and tried to go after Zucco himself, nearly got killed for it, and they didn't catch him either.

Bruce promised they would. When Dick was ready.

Well, Dick thinks he's ready. Bruce on the other hand keeps training him so hard he can hardly walk straight by the end of the day so he never has a chance to show Bruce how ready he really was.

"I'm just gonna take a breather s'all." Dick mutters against the mat.

He hears Bruce walks closer, his bare feet coming into view. "Fine, Alfred expects you upstairs anyway."

Dick groans in response.

Bruce heads off to take a shower.

Sometimes - Bruce's ability to turn everything, even the unexpected things, into routine, drives little Dick crazy. It's why he missed the circus so much most of the time. Because when he lived at the circus . . . nothing was the same, ever. Everyone did something different and you never know what'll happen on the road.

He misses the unpredictability.

Then he thinks of his parents and - he doesn't want to miss it anymore.

Slowly he pushes up, his limps ache and shake, he feels like a twizzler crossed with a fruit loop - _ow_. Man, Bruce sure pushes hard.

He takes the elevator upstairs.

Alfred has dinner and a smile for him. Dick feels better now, he has homework to catch up on after dinner and - and maybe the manor is starting to feel a tad bit like home recently.

Bruce comes upstairs, tank top and towel around his neck. He sits silently at the table, thanks Alfred for the food and proceeds on eating. Dick hides a grin and digs in heartily. He's been finding eating easier too lately. Maybe this training thing changed a lot of things for the better after all. And if he has to put up with a little pain for it - so be it.

At least now Bruce pays attention to him and grieving has gotten slightly less intimidating to deal with.


	4. Nightmares

**_A/N) Here's another snapshot._**

 ** _Starts out angsty ends fluffy._**

 ** _Motivation is your Superpower_**

* * *

 _Blood_.

So _much_ blood it hurts his eyes. The angry splatters scarring the floor, pooling grotesquely underneath the body.

This _can't_ be happening - he didn't mean to . . . it wasn't supposed to be like this. Bruce- _Batman_ \- warned him this would happen if he let Zucco get to him.

Dick breaths - when had he stopped? Black spots swim around his head, the corner of his vision blackens. He's going to throw up - the smell of blood pungent and metallic, it makes his spit thicken under his tongue.

Batman slides out of the shadows behind him. Silent. _Terrifyingly_ silent.

Dick shudders, he needs something stable - something to hold on to because the ground was no longer steady under his feet.

 _"What have you done."_

He knows, it's not a question - Batman is appalled. Dick can hear it in his non descriptive voice.

"I - I - I - I didn't - Didn't mean to." Dick shudders, hot tears blurring his vision as he tries to find a green spot on his blood soiled gloves. There isn't one.

"What. Have you. _Done_."

It's colder.

Dick turns around, the Bat looms like the fear inducing gargoyle he is. And Dick sees the anger - the disgust the . . . the _hate_.

 _Batman hates him._

He's turned into something the Batman loathes and -and -

Dick knows he's crying now. He's only twelve and . . . and he finally found Zucco and then he just -

"I saw him, he - he was happy - and I just - I just -" _Went crazy_. Dick remembers, the feeling suffocated him, the rage rose so fast, not even a forest fire lit up that fast. It just swelled and he nearly choked on it - the only remedy was to get ride of the cause.

Primal. Animalistic- not even and animal was that _savage_.

He had a kid with him.

Dick doesn't know what happened to her.

 _Oh God._

His stomach twists violently and he heaves harshly on the cold stained floor.

"I'm sorry- " He's shaking, his teeth chatter - his face and hands are sticky with blood and sweat. "I'm sorry - "

"Sorry doesn't bring you back from the line you've crossed."

"No - no Batman - I - _Bruce_ \- I'm sorry, please - I'm Sorry!"

He screams as the righteous bat-monster swoops on him and everything goes dark.

He's still screaming when he opens his eyes and realizes he's in a dark room, in a warm bed, with his blankets nearly choking him.

The door bursts open and he can make no sense of the words being said, the wavering sounds and then hands - big warm hands grasp his shoulders, cup his face and something sharp pricks him.

Dick hiccups and can hardly draw breath fast enough, tears still streaming down his small face. "B-Bruce?"

"Shhh, it's alright Dick - it was just a bad dream. You're fine. _Breath_."

Dick's not sure it's Bruce for a second. He sounds too gentle - _to real_ . . . not afraid of saying something nice for once. The kid decides he doesn't care. He throws his arms around the man and sobs.

"I'm sorry B-Bruce - I didn't mean it, I would never - I'm sorry."

Bruce's body heat was soothing, so were his hands as he pushed back the boys sweaty hair and mutters uncertain comforting words.

"It's alright Chum, you're alright. Just breath. It wasn't real Dick, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes I do - " His sobs subside to hiccups. "I - I killed Tony Zucco - "

Bruce's eyes look confused in the dark as Dick pulls away instantly missing him.

"That's not possible Dick."

"I did in the nightmare . . . and I - it felt so _real_ Bruce, like real anger, I've never been that angry in real life - but I was angry in the dream." He shivers.

Bruce drags his blanked around his thin shoulders. "And?"

Dick turns his sharp face, aquamarine eyes wide and watery. "I liked it - it felt . . . good. Like he deserved it - I _liked_ killing him. Then you came and . . . and I wasn't glad anymore and - "

The older man sighs and pulls the boy back into a hug. "I get it Dick. I know what that was."

Dick sniffs. "You do?"

"Yes. I used to have dreams just like that after my parents died. Used to dream about what I'd do to the man when I found him. "

Dick's eyes widen. "You? But you're batman."

Bruce mouth turns up on one corner at that. "Mine were probably worse - uglier. But it never feels good for long, Dick. As long as you realize that then you'll be fine." He sounds so sure about it.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not. It was just a dream. It'll get better Dick. Maybe it won't ever go away but, it'll dull a bit most days."

Dick smile is watery but he nods. "Thanks Bruce."

"Anytime. Good night Dick."

The little boy keeps up the brave face until he realizes Bruce is going to leave him alone in the dark. He's not usually afraid of it but - he's been Robin for nearly a year now and . . . and things live in the shadows in Gotham.

"Hey Bruce?"

"Yah Chum?"

"Can - can you stay here for a - a while."

The dark is silent and Dick's suddenly afraid he's asked for too much. Until heavy footsteps creak back towards his bed and the mattress dips. Dick sighs in relief and manages to curl into Bruce's warm side.

"Thanks."

"Good night."

Dick drifts off peacefully, missing the great and scary Batman's soft smile as he brushes the little boys dark hair off his pale forehead.

"You'll be alright Dick - you'll be better than me one day."

The shadows aren't so scary anymore after that.

* * *

 _Review and follows are much appreciated!_

 _I like being motivated and that motivates me ;)_

 _Help this dried up author become a well of inspired again. Because seriously - at this point . . . I'm a desert._


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